A Dance With You
by topazring
Summary: Draco and Hermione.Six years after the War, they meet at a Ministry gala. post DH.
1. Chapter 1

A/N : I wrote this while in the middle of "Love Shmuv.." , you know to counterbalance the silly humour …so anyhoo read and lemme know how it is

Disclaimer : Harry is such a common name..so is Potter.. but together they belong to JKR..so yeah..

He saw her.

She was sitting at one of the tables to the front of room. The lights from the stage fell on her. She seemed to glow. Her hair was illuminated like gold tissue, rays of light filtering through every little tender curl. The lights were dim now or he would've been blinded as he continued to stare at her. Something about her fascinated him. He didn't find her to be particularly breathtakingly beautiful. No, she wasn't. Her beauty was common. The hair was a shade of brown that wasn't distinct, no it was just like the brown of the many women who hurried down the streets of this big city. The eyes were brown too, and again not that special. They reminded him of honey glazed dark chocolates – a specialty of Honeydukes and incidentally his favourite. He could see her profile against the light, her features were soft and almost delicate. Taking a sip from his champagne flute, he cocked his head to a side, yes, he thought, a common beauty. But he found this somehow .. reassuring, comfortable.

The band was playing a soulful melody now. It was relaxing , the beat almost placid as compared to the loud, cheerful, energetic songs played in the beginning. Maybe the band decided to tone down as there were hardly any people left, the dance floor was almost unoccupied, a few stragglers sat slumped at the open bar, a few dozen guests scattered around the room occupying solitary tables.

That is why he found it surprising that she was still present. Remembering earlier, when he had watched her forced to make small talk with the Minister's wife and other socialites of the Wizarding world, whose spouses made up the top rungs of the Ministry, he had expected her to flee the moment she got the chance. But here she was, still at this extravagant Ministry gala to celebrate some inane event which would benefit no one but the few who had thrown this stupid party, he thought idly. He was here as a special guest of the Minister. He should have been in Italy for an important merger with a smaller but substantial company, but eager to redeem his family's name in his home country he had cancelled the meeting and rushed back to London.

After the war had ended the Malfoy name was severely tarnished. He snorted into his drink - that was an understatement. Thanks to his dear father's allegiance to that mad man, the Malfoys' lost everything – money, power and what little of respect they had in the Wizarding world. It was actually a miracle that he wasn't in Azkaban with his father, who was serving a sentence of ten years, still, he thought he had got off easy mainly because of his mother, who had played a small but significant role in the final battle. He, himself, had been pardoned as he had fought in the battle for the opposite side and also, surprisingly, due to the testimony of the Wizarding world's saviour.

He snorted again, he knew he should be thankful to the 'hero', but he couldn't help but feel resentful that it had been him that had saved him from incarceration – after all they were school rivals, even though in the end they had fought on the same side. He had spent the last six years rebuilding his family's business, painstakingly dragging out the Malfoy name from the mud. So that today, the name was respectable enough for the Minister of Magic himself to invite him to the gala. Although that may have been because the Minister owned quite a number of shares in his company, which he thought smugly, was set to become one of the largest in western Europe.

He swirled the drink in his hands, took a sip and put the flute down and glanced at her again. He was surprised to see her there. He knew she worked in the Ministry but she didn't strike him as the type to attend these soirees regularly, the people who did were those more-talk-no-work types, but he knew she was the opposite. Last he had heard, the Daily Prophet (which had along the years filled the spaces between articles with small reports of what went on in the lives of the 'Golden Trio') reported that she was pushing through a controversial law, something about to set the house elves free and give them their rights as equal magical beings. He smirked, so typical of her, always upholding the 'good' – that foolish Gryffindor courage and spirit. A small crease marred his brow as he remembered the scene in the battle. He had thought many a night since then, of why he had done what he did. He reasoned he wasn't thinking straight, because until then he had neither cared about her nor deemed her life to be anything more than worth a knut. He had never spoken a word to her since then, and now six years later there she was sitting a few meters from him and he felt , for some reason he couldn't understand, compelled to speak to her – to hear her voice…

She was frowning a little and seemed to be deep in thought. Her eyes seemed to be fixed on her fingers as she idly rotated her glass. He noticed she hadn't even taken a sip and it was still full. There was something melancholy about her as the slow beats of the music washed over her. Her face seemed to be a bit pale and she was lightly chewing on her lower lip. He watched her, as though mesmerised. He suddenly felt the need to go up to her and he stood up without thinking, but at the same moment she had gotten up. As he stood still, he watched her make her way to the large glass doors to the side that led to the balcony of the sixteenth floor that they were on. He stood indecisively, then moved out from his table. His robes accidentally brushed against his flute and it tumbled onto the table, spilling its contents onto the pristine table cloth and staining his dark blue dress robes. He cursed under his breath and quickly took the napkins marked with 'The A. A' and proceeded to blot some of the spilled wine. Breathing out in frustration he took out his wand and wordlessly cleaned the mess. Thankfully his robes weren't damaged.

He made his way weaving through the tables towards the balcony. He didn't know what he would say to her but his feet refused to turn back, even as his heart seemed to beat an erratic rhythm, contrasting it to the music around him.

OoOoOoO

A/N : if anyone has read my bio, you'll know from where I got the inspiration for this fic.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer : HP is owned by JKR.

She saw him.

She had spotted the mane of platinum blond hair as soon as she entered the Ball Room of the hotel. She was more than surprised. Afterall she was seeing him for the first time in six years. Although she still read about him occasionally in the Prophet, about how he was rebuilding his family business. He seemed rarely to be in London and was often photographed on his business trips around the world.

Seeing him had so far been the most exciting aspect of this whole tedious shindig, she thought dully. She normally avoided attending these galas that the Ministry threw to celebrate what, she didn't bother to know, as the cause was always a flimsy excuse to waste Ministry resources. She could have been working hard on her file to push through reforms for the elves instead of chit chatting with the wives of the Minister and his close associates, she thought irately. All of them inquired about the same thing. It was always about Harry, Ron and herself, and if they were still in touch. Someone had called them the 'Golden Trio' and giggled nasally as she asked about their love lives. She had tried to smile at the air-head socialite through gritted teeth and hoped fervently that she would get out of this place soon. She wondered glumly about why she had accepted to come here in the first place. Oh yeah, the Minister himself had sent her the memo to attend the gala and she had reluctantly agreed. She had also hoped to convince the Minister to increase the budget of The Department of Magical Creatures – where she worked. But, she knew the only reason she was being made to attend was to provide the much needed 'star' presence to the event – as both Harry and Ron were out of the Country.

She sighed as the last of the nosy socialites fluttered away leaving her in peace. The Minster's wife had dragged her to sit in one of the front tables. It was a bit too bright here, although the band was enjoyable. She rotated her champagne glass in her hands, lost to the lilting music. It was slow and a bit sad , which suited her mood just fine. As the hall slowly emptied around her, she felt her earlier haste to rush home leave her. Infact she wanted to be anywhere but in her flat - with solitude and silence haunting her there. She was trying to escape that, and all the reasons behind it….

She sighed again. Suddenly out of the corner of her eye she spied the blond looking at her. This caused her to frown as events of the war rekindled in her mind. She could never forget him, never forget his face….even in her dreams…

She remembered like it was yesterday that last day of the battle when Harry defeated Voldemort atlast. It was the day that many had died, had sacrificed their lives for the greater good, it was the day she nearly lost her life…

Things were happening too fast for her to focus that day. The Death Eaters were ruthless and didn't spare adults or students. She had been duelling with an unknown masked Death Eater. She was lucky to dodge every spell he threw at her just as he had dodged hers. Just then someone had bumped into him and she aimed a stunning spell at him as his wand was knocked away. She had breathed a sigh of relief and turned around to engage another enemy in battle, then she had gasped as she saw the ensuing battle before her. Ron was fighting with the ruthless Macnair and he was just managing to survive his killer curses. He tripped and fell over hard on the ground as he dodged another green ray from Macnair's wand. Her mouth had fallen open in a silent scream as she saw Ron unconscious on the floor. Gathering her wits atlast, she shot a stunning spell at the brute Macnair just as he had raised his wand towards Ron's fallen body. The spell missed and Macnair had turned his shallow eyes to her and in a moment she was rendered wandless. Macnair advanced towards her leering as she stood rooted to the spot staring death in the face. Macnair had pointed the wand at her and just when she thought that this was the end, Macnair keeled over and fell on his face. Dumbfounded she raised her eyes from his fallen body to look at her saviour and had found _him._ His eyes were bright and seemed angry but as she looked at him an unknown emotion passed behind those mercurial eyes. She stood staring at him, not comprehending of what just had happened. But even before she could say anything to him, he had turned and vanished into crowd of duellers, and she had turned too, to find her next battle. She had managed to pull Ron to safety and thankfully learned that he was in no danger, he had kissed her in gratitude, as all the while she wondered about a certain blond who had come to her rescue.

She sighed again. She had never asked him about why he had saved her that day, and even after six years she still wondered about it, about how her supposed enemy had pulled her away from imminent death. And now he was sitting there, just a few meters from her, she felt the urge to talk to him about it, but thinking about the incident had revived her memories of Ron and the time they had spent together and that nearly made her choke up on tears and she didn't want to face _him _like this, not now.

She bit her lip trying to control her emotions as images from the past week flooded her mind – the owl delivering her the invitation.. the apology that it was so sudden that he wasn't able to inform her earlier…her numb disbelief as she stared at the invitation in her hands…the tears…the self doubt that maybe she had been wrong in her decision…that may be she should have tried harder to salvage their relationship…the feeling of envy, hatred towards the other woman… guilt at not being happy for her friend…hysterical laughter when she scratched out the woman's name and filled in her own…more tears…….lonely nights staring at the dark ceiling……the happy people at the Burrow and her feeling of loneliness doubled…the smiling couple..her vision going blurry….the dance…Ron standing up to toast her, '-to my best friend without whom I would not have been alive today-'…her valiant attempt at smiling as George loudly interrupted, '-you had better name your first born after her, ickle Ronniekins!-'…he had smiled at her and then he was gone..with her…and she couldn't breath………

She bit her lip harder, the music was making her head to swim as more images of the four years they had spent together after the war invaded her mind..she needed some air. She got up steadily and made her way to the glass doors that led to the balcony.

OoOoOoO


	3. Chapter 3

A/N : I hate character deaths people.so I'm gonna pretend that no one died in the final battle except old Voldy…why?'coz I can and this is my fic!

Disclaimer : belongs to JKR folks…

Six years ago.

The war had ended. The winning side had gathered the survivors and were celebrating the demise of evil and mainly that there were not many casualties on their side, infact miraculously the whole Order was intact. Everyone had gathered around in the old Black Manor on Grimmauld Street, after they had been hastily treated for injuries and Harry had addressed the cheering Wizarding world. It felt a bit surreal that the war against evil that had started so long ago was now, suddenly over. The remaining Death Eaters were being detained even as the Order tentatively started their celebration. Everyone was exhausted –emotionally and physically – but also charged and exuberant at the same time. The martyrs were honoured and grieved for – their presence always missed.

The party soon turned from a quiet one, where people hugged each other relieved to see their loved ones alive, to a raucous celebration where months of stress and tension gave way to a heady, uninhibited feeling. Soon there was food, gallons of mead and someone had put on some music. Each drowned in happiness in their own preferred ways.

A pale boy with a shock of blond hair stood quietly in a dark corner of the room. He felt terribly out of place with all the gaiety in the room. His father had been among the ones to be detained, his mother had gone along with him to Ministry to plead his case and he, himself, was in danger of being sentenced to Azkaban, eventhough he had fought for the Order in the end. He fidgeted nervously in his corner, hoping no one would notice him there. He had no intention of coming here in the first place, rather he had been somehow dragged along by an Order member from the battle field after the battle had ended as he had stood there thinking morosely about his future .

So he just stood there in the shadows looking sadly at the dark floor thinking how things in his life had gone so fabulously wrong, when he felt someone nudge him gently. Startled out of his brooding, he turned around and squinted at the figure through the darkness. It was her.

He looked at her for a moment trying to see her expression in the dark. She offered him a mug of mead. He looked at her dumbly. He slowly lifted his hands and took the mug, suddenly feeling elated, grateful and for some reason sad. He simply nodded at her to say thanks. She gave a nod in return and moved away to join the others in the room as he watched her.

She came to stand beside a redhead, who smiled at her wearily and took her hand in his. With a slight smile on her lips she sipped her mug with her other hand.

He stood staring at their clasped hands from his corner and felt a strange emotion in his chest, it felt as though his heart had suddenly become heavier and his chest couldn't support its weight, his hands around the mead were cold and the back of his throat seemed to burn. He gave his head a little shake and looked away.

Just then he heard the notes of music flowing through the room. It was a sweet melody, but everyone was too tired to dance to it. It seemed to fill his heart and somehow lift him up a little. The gentle rhythm tempted him to move with it, his heart ached to let his feet move according to the notes, with his arms clasped tightly around _her_, to sway with her, to lose himself to the music, to lose himself in her….

……_there will be many nights when I will ,_

_sitting here near the window_

_and looking at the moon above,_

_regret this night that I could've taken a chance,_

_that I could've listened to the beats of my heart, _

_that I could've taken your hand in mine,_

_that I could've matched your steps with mine,_

_that I could've atlast have a dance with you…_

_but the night has ended_

_and the stars have hidden in the pale blue sky,_

_and I'm mourning over a lost chance_

_that I could've atlast have a dance with you…._

_And now here are the nights when I am, _

_sitting here near the window_

_and looking at the pale moon above,_

_regretting that night that I could've taken a chance, _

_that I could've atlast have a dance with you…………_

OoOoOoO

A/N : yup, the poem belongs to moi…and is copyrighted!

Review if you want the next chap :p


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer : the characters belong to JKR and the scenes and the words solely belong to me…

She clasped the railings tightly and took a deep breath. The cool night breeze blew her hair wildly around her head. She let go of the breath and took another one. Her head stopped swimming although her vision was steadily becoming blurry. She closed her eyes tightly willing herself to calm down, willing the tears to go away. But she gave a shuddering breath, losing the battle, as the tears broke free of her restraint and flowed down onto her cheeks. The night air felt cold on her wet cheeks.

She let go of the railings with one hand and furiously wiped away the tears, drying her moist skin. She took another steadying breath with her eyes still closed. She opened them atlast and stared into the nothingness of night. Below she could see the city lights scattered about and meandering slowly into the horizon. Strands of her hair were tickling her face and she impatiently brushed them behind her ears. Her hands felt cold on the railing and she removed them and clasped them together, rubbing a little for warmth. She sighed as she looked up at the sky, absent-mindedly pulling at her ring finger.

He saw her leaning on the railing, her hair billowing in the breeze. He smiled to himself. She was always different, fiery and untameable – a bit wild. But then he noticed that her shoulders shook with emotion and her hand flying to her face. He frowned as he heard her sniff softly. Then he remembered that article in the papers – there was something about Weasel getting hitched to his team mate on that pathetic Quidditch team of his. It hadn't come as a surprise to him – he knew she broke up with him around two years ago – no really, he hadn't snooped around for the information, it had been a hot tabloid topic for a month, it said it had something to do with 'confliction of interests'. He had snorted then, for him it sounded like 'confliction of varying brain waves' –one had it and the other didn't. It had been a mildly happy day for him – mildly, because he hadn't known what to do with the information.

His frown deepened as he noticed her demeanour, although she seemed much calmer now and was staring into the distance. Was she upset because of that red haired git? Even after two years? He felt like something leaden had dropped into his gut. He stood there, by the glass doors, watching her silently for a while, he made up his mind and walked towards her as she tried to tame her wild tresses with her hands. He quietly came to stand beside her.

She was still staring at the stars. She hadn't felt so alone in her life. She had almost gotten used to having her best friends near her at all times. But now Harry was in Ireland on an Auror mission and Ron was on his hon – on his – holiday, and she felt desperately alone in the world. She sighed again, and suddenly noticed someone beside her and nearly jumped. She saw that it was him. How long had he been standing there? And more importantly, why was he there, beside her? She slightly quirked her brow at him.

He was watching her intently. She was looking up at the sky and had sighed. She seemed to have finally noticed him and had given a little start. She was looking at him with questioning gaze, her eyebrow raised a little. He stared into her not-so-special eyes and stood mesmerised, they were so warm and open and were still as compassionate as he had remembered them to be. They seemed slightly wounded and red, testimony to her shed tears, his heart leapt to protect her fragile, yet beautiful, soul. At that moment he knew why he had saved her in that battle, why he had risked his life, pushing past duellers to reach her when he had glimpsed her frightened eyes – these eyes. He raised his hand to her hair and tentatively caught a stray tendril in his fingers, it was soft. It was then he realised that neither her eyes and nor her hair were common at all. How could they be, when they belonged to her? She was extraordinary, and so was everything about her. It was at that moment that he realised that he would gladly risk his life for her-again and again in the future. It was at that moment that he realised he would do anything to be near her, to hold her till eternity…….

She looked at him. With a jolt of surprise she recognised the look in those eyes of his, it was the same one that he had after he had saved her. She watched as he raised his hand to her hair , she lost herself in the silvery depths. She was entranced. He slowly brushed her hair behind her ear. The intensity in his eyes was breathtaking. Her eyes widened slightly as she slowly came to realise the reason behind why he had saved her then, the reason why he had pursued her, here tonight and her mouth fell open in a silent 'oh' of understanding. He gently cupped the side of her face and she covered his pale hand with her own shivering one.

They stood like that for a while. Lost in each other. Lost to the world, which was moving at its own lethargic pace down below. Just then, music seemed to filter through the doors from the hall. The last song of the night. A lilting, heart warming tune of lovers lost and finding each other and their incomparable joy.

He wordlessly and gently removed his hand from her cheek. He put one hand behind his back and offered the other to her – asking for a dance. She had, at first watched him , looking a bit confused, then her face had lit up with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his life, and had gently put her hand in his and stepped forwards to him. And he had followed suit.

As the music filled up the space between them and around them, they slowly spun on the spot, with her head softly placed on his chest and his hands gently grasping her hand in his and her nimble waist. Letting the slow rhythm take control of their moments and their hearts in tune to the notes.

And so, on the sixteenth floor of The Amor Arx, under the starlight and the moon smiling down at them, they danced, they danced in that cool night breeze of a day in spring, to the last song of the day – they danced.

……_.a dance with you I've always wished,_

_beneath the gentle stars and and the clear sky,_

_under the strom clouds or even until the harsh sun comes by, _

_it has been my heart's greatest desire_

_to spin you around, ever so gently, _

_my arms gathered around you, ensuring your safety._

_so even if it is but the last song of the day,_

_I'll always dance with you_

_and a promise to you I make_

_that this will never be the last waltz we take._

_I'll always wish for this moment _

_to be never be taken away,_

_for a dance with you I've always wished, _

_beneath the many moods of the moon,_

_willing the song not to be over too soon_

_and I shall dance with you, my dear, 'til eternity_

_and even all through the hot month of june,_

_for a dance with you I've always wished,_

_a dance with you…………………………….._

OoOoOoO

A/N : phew! This was the most difficult thing I've ever written 'coz there are no dialogues in this. Nu-uh!not one!

And in case you're wondering what 'The A.A' stood for in the first chapter, well it's the name of the hotel – The Amor Arx, which by the way, means 'Love Fortress' in Latin. And oh yeah, its patented, so if anyone wants to name a building or something, send me a cheque for the effort I took in making that name up!

And yeah, the crappy poems were also written by yours truly! I'm a novice so don't sue me!

I thought this was a novel concept and _had_ to write it down or I'd have gone mad. And for those exceptionally bright few who haven't still got it, 'he' mostly refers to Draco and 'she' refers to Hermione.

PS: if anyone is still wondering, the inspiration for this came from the last scene of 'My Best Friend's Wedding'...

Hope you liked it, and if so tell me! Review!!!


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